Paige
TREMOLO: A vocal effect used by singers to create a trembling sound in the voice
I’m kissing Youssef.I’m kissing Youssef in the middle of a dance floor surrounded by his family and friends, and I couldn’t stop if I tried.
I press my chest to his and slide my good hand out of his grip so I can wrap my fingers around the collar of his suit jacket. He tastes like champagne and spice. I can’t get enough of him. I can never get enough of him.
The song swells in my ears and starts to fade into the next track, but we don’t stop kissing. This moment feels like a gift, like some extravagant indulgence you’re not sure you should even accept, but it’s here and we’re in it, and I’m going to keep kissing him until we’ve taken every last drop we’ve been offered.
I brush my fingertips along the back of his neck, and his hand presses harder between my shoulders, steady and firm as the room spins around us. I’m not drunk, but I feel like I can’t keep the floor straight underneath me. This is all so much more than I expected.
I thought I’d be some anonymous face in the crowd today, just a girl for people to nod at when they asked if Youssef had a date. I didn’t think Aaliyah would recognize me, or that she’d hug me as soon as she saw me and look between Youssef and I like she was caught between smiling and sobbing. I didn’t think so many aunts and uncles would want to shake my hand. I didn’t think I’d end up having a hilarious time huddled in the corner with a little old Egyptian lady, slinging back champagne and swapping embarrassing stories about Youssef.
I didn’t think Icoulddo any of those things. Just this one night of opening up to something more than all the years on my own has left me split open like a chasm, face to face with how empty I’ve been all along.
It’s almost too much. I’ve been feeling these weird moments of panic ever since we got to the wedding. I don’t want to ruin the day for Youssef, but holding it all in is getting harder and harder as the night goes on.
Youssef is the one to finally break the kiss. He rests his forehead against mine as we both gasp for air. When I open my eyes, his are still closed. His expression is pained, and he’s still holding me so tight, like I’m a treasure someone else is intent on pulling away.
“Ow ow!” The moment breaks with the sound of someone whooping, and I look over to see Aaliyah with her hands cupped around her mouth. “Yeah! Get it!”
She starts clapping, and that’s when I notice that everyone in the immediate vicinity is staring at Youssef and I, some tenderly, some sharing Aayliah’s whooping enthusiasm, and some clearly appalled by the distinct lack of room for Jesus between us.
A few other people join in the applause, and when I look back at Youssef, he’s grinning.
“Whoops,” he whispers into my ear.
I’m already flushed with embarrassment. I can hear my heart hammering in my ears, and I can’t believe I let myself get so carried away. Everyone is staring at me, and the fact that I can’t pull a hood over my head or bury my hands in some floppy sleeves just makes it worse.
“Can we go?” I mutter as people start to lose interest in us. “I need some air.”
The grin slides off Youssef’s face, and he nods. “Of course. Follow me.”
I stop paying attention to where we’re going as he leads me through the party. I keep my eyes trained on the back of his suit, the black fabric highlighting the planes of his shoulders. He looks good—ridiculously good—but I can’t even focus on that. I’m out of my depth, swallowed up by the newness of it all, and I need to break the surface and breathe.
We exit through some glass doors and step out onto a stone patio that’s been packed up for the fall season. The strings of little bulbs overhead are lit up, but the chairs have been piled against the wall of the hotel, and there’s no other furniture.
We’re the only ones out here. I ignore the chairs and head to the edge of the patio. I sit down right on the stone slabs and adjust my dress so I can cross my legs. Youssef sits beside me without saying a word, and for a minute, we just stare into the night. Beyond the patio, there’s a little garden area dotted with tall bushes that cast long, dark shadows on the ground, and past that, I can see one of the hotel’s parking lots. The air is cold enough that I wish I had my jacket. Youssef strips out of his as soon as he notices me running my good hand up my arm.
“Here. Indulge my gentlemanly impulses.”
He drapes the jacket around my shoulders, and I can’t help huddling into it. It smells like him, and the swaths of fabric make me feel safe.
“I’m sorry if, uh, if the kiss was too much,” he begins. “I—”
“No.” I’m still looking out at the garden, but I shake my head. “No, I just...I think I’m done with the party. You should go back in, though. I know you probably want to be with your family and stuff, not out here dealing my weirdness, so—”
I move to give him his jacket back, but he puts a hand on my shoulder and keeps it there until I look at him.
“Paige,” he says, the little lights above us casting shadows on his face, “don’t do that. Don’t pull away, okay? I’m here because I want to be here. I want to be with you.”
I watch him for a moment. “I...I want that too. I’m just not really used to it, and...”
He starts to stroke my shoulder with his thumb, and that gentle little touch is enough to make my eyes prick with heat. I don’t know what’s happening to me.
“And?” he prompts when I don’t go on.
“And...” My voice sounds so small and quivering, but that’s the part of me he’s found: the small scared part that’s been locked up for so long it doesn’t remember how to be in the light. “You could really hurt me, you know?”
